


"Walk With Me"

by carolinenite



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 22:11:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14724515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinenite/pseuds/carolinenite
Summary: How Will and Mac (maybe) met...





	"Walk With Me"

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a quick one-shot that came about quite by accident.

Mackenzie McHale never really felt at home anywhere; nowhere ever put her at ease.  Growing up, she bounced from city to city, from school to school.  Mackenzie was born in New York City and lived in Washington D.C. for several years before moving back to the Big Apple for most of middle and high school.  Then, as she felt for the first time that she was truly discovering herself and finding a niche in the world that suited her, her father had been recalled to England, leaving Mac to assimilate into a culture and a country to which she sounded as if belonged but to which she really did not. 

This change was accompanied by attempting to successfully navigate an education system that was fundamentally different than the one to which she was accustomed.  Mackenzie threw herself into her schooling; she was bound and determined to outpace everyone else.  It seemed the easier of the two tasks before her:  education and assimilation.  She reasoned that, eventually, the comfort with her peers and her surroundings would come.  Cambridge followed, with Mackenzie being elected president of the Cambridge Union, and she proved herself the brightest and the best on a daily basis.  Her friends and lecturers marveled at her fierce dedication and tireless working hours; her father saw something different.  He saw a daughter who never let her guard down, even for a breath, a young woman who was still experiencing so many things for the first time that others knew as commonplace in their cultural mores.  He saw a girl desperate not to put her foot in the wrong place and longing for a place in her own world. The ambassador didn’t know how to help her, wasn’t sure even how to broach the subject with her or with his wife.  And so, he praised her accomplishments, attended every possible debate, and gave both his blessing and an understanding nod when she announced shortly after commencement that she would be returning to D.C. to try her hand at American journalism.  Mac’s mother couldn’t understand it; she cried and threw one going away party after another in hopes that her daughter would find a reason to stay.  There was nothing that could keep Mac where she didn’t feel that she belonged, and she left for America with a sense of purpose. 

It took almost six months for Mac to realize that the journalism of which she wanted to be a part wasn’t in D.C., so with a fond wave to the capital city, Mackenzie returned to the city of her birth.  CNN was the right pace for Mackenzie.  She neither stopped nor slowed down; she put in more hours than even the executive producers around her and was quickly promoted to assistant producer.  The rhythm of New York was familiar to Mac.  She loved that the city was an enigma, constantly changing and reinventing itself in ways that gave all of its occupants a similar frame of reference.  She knew her way around the city that was starting to feel like home.

Then, as she was dialing a spokesperson for a comment on a story, her world stopped on its axis.  A tall blond man passed by her desk; all of the hairs on her neck stood up.  He walked right into her EP’s office without even a courtesy knock.  Mackenzie instantly admired the brazen confidence of the man.  Must’ve been here all his life, she mused.

More than a minute later, the door opened again, and the man reentered the bullpen.  His eyes snapped to the woman who had stirred his senses when he had passed her upon entrance to the space.  Her eyes locked with his immediately, and he noted with concealed amusement that her cheeks colored faintly.  She had absolutely been caught staring at the door, he thought.  To her credit, she maintained eye contact as he crossed the room toward her.

“You McHale?” he asked, stopping just short of her desk.  She nodded.  “That was a good—no, a great story you put out this week.”

“Thanks,” she said, polite but guarded. 

“Take a walk with me.”  Her gaze leapt from his eyes to the door from which he had previously emerged.  “Already cleared it.”  He smiled at her, a smile meant to charge right past her guarded expression.  “Walk with me,” he repeated.

They rode to the lobby in silence and crossed the lobby in the same way.  A few steps down the sidewalk, Mac finally spoke.

“You wanted to speak with me, Mr…”  She trailed off, realizing that she was strolling across Columbus with a total stranger.

“McAvoy.  Will McAvoy.”

“With or without the 007 undertones?”

“Definitely without.”  He quirked a grin at the automatic sass that colored her tone.  “I wanted less to talk to you and more to offer you a job.”

Mackenzie stopped short.

“I’m sorry, Mr. McAvoy—“

“Will,” he interrupted.

“Will, I don’t mean to be rude, truly, but who exactly are you?”

Will smiled again at her, and Mackenzie fought not to allow him around her guarded façade.

“Let’s start from the beginning.”  He extended his hand to her.  “Ms. McHale, I’m Will McAvoy.  I’m the new 10 o’clock anchor, and I like the way you put together a story.  Your work is clean, fact-based, and well-contextualized.  I think you’d make a good addition to my team, and I’d like to offer you a job.”

They continued to walk, crossing into Central Park somewhat aimlessly.  People buzzed by them; Mackenzie soaked in their pace with relish.  Instinctively, she increased her stride to match the tide of pedestrians around them.

“I’ve already got a job.  It’s a job that I’m fond of, and, all due respect, it doesn’t seem to be a smart career move to go from the primetime slot to a 10 pm unproven show.”

“You might be misunderstanding me, McHale.”  He stepped off the path into the grass, steering her with him.  “I don’t know how the hell you keep pace in those shoes, but let’s sit, huh?  I’m not trying to get my workout in on this little jaunt.”  He shrugged off his jacket, gallantly spreading it on the ground in front of a wide tree.

“Mackenzie,” she said, settling with ease onto a corner of his coat.  He joined her and offered her a grateful smile for the space she had left him on the covering.  “My name is Mackenzie.  Not Ms. McHale.  You’re welcome to call me Mac.”

“Alright Ms. Mackenzie ‘Mac’ McHale, we’re going to give this one more shot before we call it a wash.  I think that we can get better at this communication thing with a little bit of practice.  I’m not asking you to take a lateral move in coming to 10 o’clock.”  He paused for obvious emphasis.  She stared expectantly at him.  “I’m asking you to come on board as my EP, Mac.”

“Based on one story?”

“Based on your body of work and the reputation that you’ve cultivated at CNN and in D.C..”

What do you know about D.C.?”

“That you were underutilized and that you threatened your bosses.”

“I did no such thing!”

He raised his hands in an effort to calm her instant agitation.

“Poor word choice.  I meant that they were threatened by your work and your instincts, but I figured that since you left a preposition dangling on Columbus Circle…”  He let his words trail off as she flushed.

“You’re offering me executive producer?”

“To be clear, I’ll be the managing editor, but yeah, EP.”

Mackenzie focused on breathing regularly, while the man seated next to her seemed completely at ease.  He sprawled lazily against the trunk of the tree, a picture of ease and confidence.

“You grew up in the city?”

“Nebraska.  Why?”

Mackenzie shrugged noncommittally before speaking again.  “Managing editor… meaning?”

“Partners?”

“Partners,” she repeated, tentatively.

“Obviously, I retain full approval/veto of everything that goes on our air.”

Our air, she repeated in her head.  Mackenzie felt her confidence rise.  This man was already considering her a partner.  On her own show.  Though she did get the very distinct impression that Will would maintain that it was, in fact, his show.

“When do we start?”

Will grasped her hand firmly between his, shook it heartily, and smiled with blinding gratitude.

“Next week.  We’re going to do big things, Mac.  I promise you that.  It’s going to mean things, our show.”

He helped her to her feet, and they headed back toward Time Warner Central.  As Mackenzie entered the lobby, Will McAvoy at her side, she felt a piece slide into place in her mind.  She belonged here, in this place, at this moment.  This exact spot in time was where she was supposed to be.  And if this man from Nebraska could appear to own the city, then she could have her piece of it, too.  It was hers to conquer.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this one. Love hearing from you all!


End file.
